


his sun speak is religion to me

by strawberryfire



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Smut, Car Sex, Choking, M/M, Smut, season 1 steve, steve harrington is a brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfire/pseuds/strawberryfire
Summary: idk. just some season 1 steve and billy messing around in the Camaro bc; why not
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Kudos: 201





	his sun speak is religion to me

**Author's Note:**

> this was something i wrote very badly in first person POV a few months back, so i apologize for any mistakes!! i’ll make sure to fix them if i catch it lolz

Steve could be anywhere else in the world tonight, yet here he was at this shitty party getting drunk on shitty beers with his girlfriend stone cold sober beside him. 

“Steve, you oughta stop, we have a test tomorrow.” Nancy says, trying to take it from his hand.

Steve groans and clutches it tighter, “I’m not _even_ drunk.”

“You words are slurring.”

“But I’m speaking full sentences, right?” 

She sighs in defeat, “Yeah, I guess so. Still, it’s almost my curfew.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Like your parents _really_ care.”

“They do. Now stop being such a baby and let’s get going.”

Steve huffs, “Sorry _mom_.” 

Steve looks up and Tommy is making his way over, “Hey, Harrington! You’ve lost your title!”

Steve hiccups and pushes up his sunglasses, “Huh?” 

“You’re not keg king anymore.” He grins.

Steve scoffs, “That’s _bullshit_!”

“Hm, don’t think so.” 

Out steps the new boy from behind Tommy. He’s got a cig in his mouth, no shirt on, _way_ too tight jeans. Steve didn’t even know his name but Steve tell this leather jacket clad blondie was a grade a level douchebag. And Steve wouldn’t admit this even if his life depended on it; this _douche_ was _hot_ . Gross, but _hot_. 

Steve rolls his eyes for the millionth time, downing the beer in his hand before grabbing another one. This time Nancy doesn’t try to stop him.

“Aww, poor _King Steve_ isn’t _important_ anymore.” The blondie’s voice is all high pitched and _annoying_. 

“Fuck off.” Steve mumbles. 

The boy gets up all in Steve’s face, beer on his breath and smoke coming from his nose, “Hm? What was that?”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve sneers louder, looking him dead in the eyes, trying way too hard to seem intimidating. But he was wearing _two_ pastel polos and fucking freshly ironed _khakis_. 

“I think you’re _drunk_ , Harrington. I don’t think you’re really as brave as everyone says you are.” He smirks.

“You barely fucking know me.” Steve slurs as this shirtless dickwad starts trying to corner him. 

The blondie’s lips curl into a smirk and he flicks his tongue over his teeth, “Oh, I think I know _enough_.” 

“And _I_ barely fucking know _you_. I don’t even know your name.” Steve puts his fingers on the boys chest and pushes him away before going back over to Nancy.

“Steve, _please_ , let’s go home before you doing something stupid.” Nancy pleads.

“It’s Hargrove. Billy Hargrove.” He is staring fucking _swords_ into Steve’s eyes. 

“Cool. I don’t care, literally, not one damn bit.” 

“Steve. Car. _Now_.” Nancy snaps.

“You heard your girl.” The now named keg king from California says, “Go on.”

Steve hands her his keys, “Just go home yourself, Nance. I’ll get you coffee tomorrow or whatever.” 

She smiles, “And a bagel?”

“Yep.” Steve kisses her and Billy _awes_ , but in the most mocking tone possible. 

“Please stay safe, Steve. And call me when you get home, alright?” 

“Stop _worrying_ ,” Steve whines like a five year old, “I'm _fine_.”

Nancy rolls her eyes playfully at him before going out the door of Tommy’s house and driving away. 

Steve grabs another beer, before poking the side and downing it. 

“Really? That’s the best you can do?” Billy is propped up against the wall, hands in his pockets. 

“Why don’t you just fuck _off_?” Steve continues to whine and it disgusts himself a little because he literally sounds like a toddler throwing a tantrum. But this dude named Billy with an ugly ass mullet was irritating the shit out of him. 

Okay, maybe the mullet wasn’t _that_ ugly. But Steve was going to keep telling himself it was. 

Billy raises an eyebrow,“Why don’t you learn some manners, Harrington?” 

“Oh my _God,_ you’re not my fucking _mom_ !” Steve _stomps his foot,_ trying to get Billy to go away. 

Billy doesn’t move a muscle. 

“Whiny tonight are we?”

“ _Tommy_ make him go away!” Steve complains more and Tommy just hands Steve another beer. 

Steve huffs and takes it, downing the shitty beer and crushing the can.

“He gets like this without his sippy cup.” Tommy smirks, “Isn’t that right, Stevie?”

He throws the empty can at Tommy’s head, “Fuck off. And only Nance can call me Stevie.”

“Is your only way of a comeback is just saying fuck off?” Billy asks, still staring very intently at the brat in front of him. 

“Maybe. Why does it affect you?” Steve pouts and keeps his arms crossed. 

“Cause you’re a _brat_ , Harrington.”

Steve gasps, “I am _not_! I’m a fuckin’ delight!” 

Billy laughs, real loud and obnoxious. Steve swears he can feel his own cheeks turning red. 

“Yeah, _sure_ you are.”

Steve is praying to _God_ that is the second hand smoke and way too many drinks telling him that this mullet wearing asshole who’s shirtless and _gross_ might, just _might,_ be attractive in the _slightest_ bit. 

”I am.” Steve huffs for the millionth time.

The next few minutes were a blur. Something about that Nancy had called and apparently wanted Steve home. And somehow after Steve’s tenth drink, he ends up in the passenger side of Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.

“Where are we _going_ , stranger _danger, why_ should I trust _you_?” Steve slurs, dragging out every other word.

“Your girl wanted you home, I felt like being nice.”

“Fuck _you_ .” Steve hiccups and Billy stops the car in the _middle_ of the goddamn road.

“If you say fuck you _one_ more time to me, I’ll beat your face in. Got it?” Billy whispers into Steve’s ear, his voice all deep and raspy.

Steve simply nods, having _no_ intent on stopping. 

Billy continues on driving to Steve’s house, which Steve don’t know _how_ he knew Steve’s address. Guess Nancy told him.

Steve puts his head on Billy’s shoulder, looking up at him with his signature doe eyes, “ _Why_ do you _care_ about me so _much_?” 

All of a sudden Billy pulls to the side of the road and grips Steve’s jaw, “Cause you’re an annoying, stuck up little prissy piece of _shit_ that needs to be taught a lesson.” 

Steve giggles and chews at his bottom lip, liking the feeling of Billy’s fingers on his face a bit too much, “Oh you’re so big and _scary,_ Billy. You ain’t my _daddy.”_

He’s _still_ shirtless and the grip Billy has on Steve’s face is so _tight_ . Steve feels _another_ tight feeling; expect it's in his _pants_ and not anywhere _near_ where Billy is touching him. 

“Ever since day _one_ , Harrington. Always whining and bitching to get what you want. The world doesn’t work like that, pretty boy.” Billy is maintaining the most intense stare ever, his bright blues _glaring_ into Steve’s soul. 

“I know.” Is all Steve manages to say, completely transfixed by this grossly hot boy who was all up in his business. 

“Boys like you piss me off.” Billy moves so their faces are centimeters apart, his smokey breath against Steve’s lips. 

Steve grins, still drunk but well aware of the situation and the sexual tension in the air that you could cut with a goddamn _butter knife_ , “Good, it’s my job.”

Billy suddenly tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, tugging it _hard_ and Steve _moans._

“But then again, I love em. Brats like you are easy to please.” Billy just has this look on his face like he knows _damn_ well what he’s doing.

Steve _whines_ as soon as Billy lets go of his hair and he chuckles, “But you’re needy, aren’t you?”

Steve never been so _intimidated_ but also _excited_ but _way_ too turned on by the way Billy was teasing him and he wasn’t _afraid_ to.

Billy laughs again and it sends shivers down Steve’s spine, “Well, _are_ you?” Billy bites at Steve’s bottom lip and _tugs_ on it.

Steve whimpers a little, “I don’t have to tell you _shit.”_

Billy closes the space between the two of them, slotting their lips together and kissing, Steve didn’t even think it _was_ kissing, Steve all _messy_ and greedy. 

He pulls away and Steve whines again, “ _No_.” He tries kissing Billy again but he puts a finger to Steve’s cherry colored lips.

Billy chuckles, “Nuh uh. Not so fast, _princess_.” 

“ _Please_ , please. I’ll do what you want, just fucking get these khakis off please _please_ .” Steve begs and _whimpers,_ shifting around in the leather seat. 

Billy leaves a hickey on Steve’s collarbone, “You done this before? Of course you have, you prissy _slut._ Always begging for a boy to get your dick wet, huh?”

Steve feels his cheeks heating up, “Fuck off.” 

Billy wraps his hand around Steve’s throat and _growls, “_ What did I fucking say about that, priss? Hm? What. Did. I. Say.”

Steve chokes in the slightest and giggles under his breath, “Fuck _off_ , Hargrove.”

Billy rolls his eyes and lays the seat down, holding Steve’s wrists tightly above his head, “God, you really _are_ the _bitch_ everyone says you are.”

_Call me a bitch again,_ Steve thinks in his head over and over.

Steve stares up at him with his sparkling doe eyes and Billy _melts, “_ It’s a damn good fuckin’ thing you’re pretty.”

Steve gives a dopey grin, “I know.”

Billy decides he’s had enough of the teasing and can’t want this boy any longer, so he pulls down Steve’s khakis and Steve’s eyes flutter shut, a quiet moan slipping from his lips. 

“Such a goddamn prep,” Billy mumbles, tugging of Steve’s Ralph Lauren boxers, “Bet you got _two_ polos on too.”

Steve tries to reach a hand down to give himself some damn _relief,_ but Billy keeps a tight grip on his wrists and does another tongue over teeth smirk, “Needy boys don’t get what they want. Be patient, priss.”

Steve nods silently, biting his lip so hard he’s sure it’s bleeding. 

Billy’s body is illuminated by the street light outside and Steve can’t help but stare. His chest was sticky with the beer, his lips stained red from the cherry Coke’s. His curls were _model_ worthy; he was _gorgeous._

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve breathes out, keeping his eyes transfixed on the blonde above him. 

Billy leans down and whispers, “Stay quiet for me, pretty boy. Think you can do that for once?” 

Steve nods, “ _Yeah_ , I can do that.”

Blondie smirks, pulling down his own pants and Steve’s eyes go _wide_ because Tommy Holloway was most definitely _not_ that _big_ and Steve could most definitely _not_ take Billy Hargrove but he stayed quiet since Steve didn’t _care_ if it hurt. He _wanted_ it to.

Steve hears the snap of a lube bottle and he laughs to himself because of _course_ Billy Hargrove has _lube_ in his damn car. 

“C’mon,” Steve whispers, “Don’t have all night.”

Billy laughs, putting his other hand on Steve’s wrists, “Do you ever shut the fuck _up?”_

_“_ Fuck me already and you’ll see.” 

Billy pushes into Steve so _slow_ and so _teasingly_ it makes Steve want to _cry._ He’s dick starved, alright? And here he is, finally getting what he wants, but the douchebag giving him what he so desperately _needs_ has other plans. 

“I’m not a fucking _virgin,”_ Steve groans and tries to get out of Billy’s grip, “Don’t be _nice.”_

Billy laughs deeply in Steve’s ear and rocks into him at a steady rhythm, their bodies as close together as possible. Billy’s shitty cologne and cherry smoke swim around Steve and Steve _cannot_ get enough. 

Steve arches his back and closes his eyes, taking in every _ounce_ of this boy who is doing everything _but_ being mean like he had been. He was treating Steve like a _girl;_ he was being fucking gentle and Steve felt offended. 

“Hargrove, I’m not a fucking _girl,_ I’m not a pussy.”

Billy smirks, “Oh really now? Thought all preppy bitches like you were the same.”

Steve groans as Billy just nearly grazzes over _that spot, “_ That’s bullshit.”

Billy grips Steve’s hips so tight Steve is sure there will be bruises and he’s fucking into Steve so _hard_ the car is _shaking._

Billy is memorizing every single obscenely _heavenly_ sound that falls from Steve’s mouth, the way his eyebrows are raised and his pretty eyes are squeezed shut. How pretty pink his cheeks are and his red bitten lips. He sure as hell _sounds_ like a girl. 

But, Steve gets whiny again. Whimpering and bitching whenever Billy slows down even the tiniest amount or moves his hands away from Steve’s body. 

Steve whines a little _too_ loud and Billy _hates_ it (he doesn’t). He _slaps_ Steve hard across his face and Steve gasps a little, “Last warning, pretty boy.”

Steve looks up at Billy again with the most _deadly_ innocent eyes, “You wouldn’t hurt me, _daddy_. I’m a good boy, right?”

Billy’s breath hitches and he mumbles, “Oh you fucking _slut.”_ This, that one little word, sets Billy off and he’s going _feral_ on this precious pretty boy. He’s got a hand in Steve’s hair, another around his throat but not tight enough to choke him. He’s sure Steve _wants_ Billy to choke him, but again, Billy _doesn’t_ play nice.

Billy _pounds_ into this boy who just won’t _shut up._ He slams his lips to Steve, biting and sucking through the greedy kisses. Steve feels like he’s underwater and his head is _swimming_ with a type’a way he’s never felt before. 

“Such a _good_ fuckin’ boy, Stevie, you feel so good,” Billy mutters into Steve’s hickey ridden neck, not taking his hands away from the milky skin underneath him. Steve tastes like the stale beer from the party but also _cherries_ and fancy cigars, he tastes like pure _gold._

Steve’s eyes are still shut, his pretty eyelashes fluttering against rosy cheeks and tears occasionally roll down onto his polo, “Billy,” He breathes out, almost a whisper, “S’close, please, _please.”_

Billy buries himself as deep as possible into Steve, pressing their chests together and kissing the brunette like he’s nursing a drink; Steve _was_ a drink, a typa fruity one with _way_ too much vodka, “C’mon, baby, let go for me, I’ve got you.”

Steve’s breathing quickens and he digs his nails into Billy’s leather-clad arms, Billy’s pretty curls tickling his forehead, “Touch me, _please.”_

Billy chuckles and keeps fucking into Steve so _hard_ the car is _shaking,_ “ _No_ , baby, want you comin’ untouched, can you do that for me, Stevie?” 

The California boys raspy dripping sun speak is like _heaven,_ his hands are rough but they’re fueling a fire inside of Steve he didn’t _know_ was there—didn’t know it was burning out and that he _needed_ that fire to coarse through his veins. This boy was a _flame_ that burned as blue as his eyes. 

This was a _religion_ ; Billy was _certain_ Steve was a _religion_ and his moans, his delicate whimpers were the scriptures sung by the choirs on Sunday mornings. He was tender, he was soft and he was _perfect._

Then, _then,_ Steve’s coming undone—repeating Billy’s name like he’s God, _praying_ for Billy to _not stop,_ his fingers wrapping around curls and Steve is sure Billy _is_ God— he could make a religion outta this. 

When Billy pulls away, Steve feels so empty but so full and he wants nothing more than to never feel this way again, to have Billy wrapped up in him _always._

_“_ You sure are some damn good fun, little priss,” Billy mumbles, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips.

And Steve always thought that his father’s telescope which sat in his bedroom would let Steve see this universe in all its glory yet here he is, crammed into the seat of a navy blue Camaro, his legs wrapped around a boy from California and he thinks— _no,_ he’s _certain—_ he’s seeing the _galaxy_ right now. 

“You taste like Malibu,” Steve whispers like its a secret no one can know, “Fuck, you taste _just_ like Malibu.” 

Billy laughs a little and runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, certain that this was heaven, he could make a religion outta Steve Harrington, “Cali tastes good, doesn't it?”

Steve hums against Billy’s neck as an answer, “C’mon and take me home, Malibu.”

Billy doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to peel away from this angel in his arms, “Can I stay the night?”

“You _better_.”

Billy grins, kisses Steve’s still carnation cheeks, “I will, pretty boy. I will.”


End file.
